Barack Obama [antikvár]

It was early evening, and a boy named Dávid sat on a tenement floor, glued to the TV. "Who's that?" the boy asked his mother, pointing to the sereen. His mother looked up from a frayed sofa and set her newspaper aside. "That's Barack Obama," she said. "Braco-what?" "Barack Obama," she repeated with a srm'le. <(l know it's a mouthful. Anyway, hes someone very special." "Why?" "Well, for one thing-" "How come those people are shouting his name?" "Because he-" "Are they all his friends? They must be his friends. What's his name again?" "Boy! You are about to wear me out!" "Sorry," Dávid whispered. The mother patted a spot on the sofa beside her. "Come," she said. "If you sít still, I'll teli you his story."